Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Tuesday, October 5

Dear Friends,

Thanks for the poetry...it's fabulous, funny, moving, and really touching. I love your contributions.
Today we went to see my oncologist in preparation for my next treatment on Thursday and for an update. Tito is one centimeter smaller, and in total, it has almost shrunk in half. Now we really feel like we have this thing on the run. The doctor was palpating under my arm where there was further swelling and that too is down considerably. This makes thinking about the next treatment more bearable.
I ordered a Kindle on Friday (the result of heightened boredom and a handy VISA card) and it arrived today. I downloaded my first text, Ruth Rakoff''s new book *When My World Was Very Small.* It's the story of her challenges during treatment for breast cancer, including surgery and chemo. It's smart, sometimes very funny and recounts her treatment at a "cancer centre" in Toronto (which I believe is the Princess Margaret) with, I believe, some of the same doctors I have (only their initials are provided). I can visualize the rooms she describes, so too can I appreciate her fear, her anxiety in the tests, the sounds and smells. It's comforting to read the words of someone who is through the process and now healthy.
We ate Dorit's meatballs for dinner tonight with Catherine's homemade pasta sauce. Julie's ginger cookies for dessert (recipe posted yesterday). All incredibly delicious.
Will I remember how to cook when this is all over? With food this good, perhaps not...
Much love,
Kip

1 comment:

  1. Hey Kip,

    Anansi set the stories free and they flutter the world like errant butterflies. It is for us to watch them, catch them and the Kindle is your net.


    clock ticks time past happy hours
    and now talks nonsense
    strained and strange
    Insomnia has taken me up
    as a hobby
    my nuit blanche
    puts matchsticks in my eyes.
    books and chocolate to soothe the nerves
    (the chocolate asks for coffee)
    and quiet, blessed quiet
    but the ticking of the clock
    thinking sinking sucking down
    and losing coherence
    thinning the minutes
    the second snaps
    (something had to give)
    another square to cuddle the tongue
    read another paragraph
    approaching normalcy
    twitching eyes are lined and limned
    are settling down for closing
    pages frail and free
    turn to draw and end
    I wrap my robe
    and arms around me
    still the chocolate asks for coffee.

    Walter

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